Film Review: The Dark Knight Rises

Certificate: 12A (intense sequences of violence and action, some sensuality and language)
Directed By: Christopher Nolan
Cast: Christian Bale, Michael Caine, Gary Oldman, Anne Hathaway, Tom Hardy, Marion Cotillard, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Morgan Freeman
Budget: $250 million
Runtime: 164 minutes
Trailer: Watch

The bar that Nolan set with The Dark Knight was so high that there was always the risk that he could become a victim of his own success. In hushed voices people doubted if The Dark Knight Rises would ever be able to hurdle it. Specifically, topping the intensity displayed by Heath Ledger's Joker was always going to be a tall order, and certainly it hasn't been done here. Indeed, the comparisons were always inevitable. But The Dark Knight was one of those rare movie events, the kind of film that doesn't come around often which makes any measurement against it somewhat unyielding. Trilogies are also a notoriously difficult thing to nail, but if there's one man you'd want at the helm it's Christopher Nolan, a man who has yet to make a truly terrible film. And with that, one can safely say that The Dark Knight Rises is one of the most fitting conclusions to a trilogy ever made.

Eight years after the Joker brought a little anarchy to Gotham, the city is at peace and Bruce Wayne (Bale) lives as a recluse within the confines of Wayne Manor. But when cat burglar Selina Kyle (Hathaway) spurs Bruce into donning the mask and cape again he soon unearths a fire rising beneath the streets of Gotham, stoked by a gas mask wearing radical named Bane (Hardy).

In true Nolan fashion, The Dark Knight Rises is very much a film of our time. The stakes are even more portentous where if you thought the Joker's plot was audacious, you haven't seen anything yet. Maniac Bane brands himself as champion of the disenfranchised, issuing a call to arms not to the criminals of Gotham, but to the '99%' lingering in economic recession to take back from those who have exploited them. But this is a smokescreen, a game of shadows masking a far more nefarious plot to tear Gotham apart. The Dark Knight Rises' themes are certainly interesting, raising issues of bankers, occupiers, vengeance and lost hope on an epic and personal scale, and it is these things which you will probably take most from the film. This is a bleak and wholly realistic apocalyptic scenario, something almost tangible in a mirror image to our world. Where the Joker sought to highlight the perennial battle between chaos and order, Bane's plan is much more controlled and purposeful, even simple in its execution. He instigates a battle between the haves and the have nots, playing on inherent systemic unfairness and the uprooting of established models. This is about revolution; a war between existential concepts rather than the fundamentals of the universe.

Bane might not be as iconic as the Joker, or even as nuanced as Heath Ledger's portrayal, but he is nonetheless a memorable villain who demands attention. And while at least you could understand what came out the the Joker's mouth, there's something equally disconcerting and pernicious about the garble emanating through his morphine-pumping Darth Vader costume. But then his sheer physicality does most of the talking for him. Certainly, he is the only villain in the trilogy who ever looks like he might break the Bat, making the caped crusader look fallible, weak, and with that the situation hopeless. In many ways his battle with Batman is just as enthralling as the Dark Knight's brush with the Joker. While a notch below the cerebral out-smarting and counter out-smarting battle of wits with the psychopathic clown, Bane's braun and simplistic eloquence in setting off an unstoppable chain reaction of events poses a different, yet equally fascinating challenge for Batman. Even if the idea of two burly men in pantomime costumes shouting at each other in ridiculous voices should strike one as hysterical.

The contrast between Wayne and Bane is stark. Bruce is the crippled beast that wanders his empty castle without cause or purpose, trapped in a body battered by years of crime fighting. Having lost the love of his life, there is a strong sense that Bruce's journey of channeling his rage into becoming justice incarnate has regressed to the directionless adolescent harbouring uncontrollable grief and rage we met at the beginning of Batman Begins. He believes in nothing anymore, a fact he's consistently reminded of by his conscience, Alfred (Caine). Bruce is concerned only for his own affliction, unlike his parents, who as board member of Wayne Enterprises Miranda Tate (Cotillard) puts it, "invested in the world" through their philanthropic pursuits. The years have left him soft, in the same privileged bracket of the 1% Bane seeks to usurp where his over reliance on technology and bat gadgets prove no match for the masked lunatic. In order to beat Bane, Bruce must first go through the same initiation of the man "born and raised in hell on Earth" (or a pit prison halfway around the world if you will). But this isn't merely for the purpose of a Rocky training montage, slumming it by training in primeval conditions in order to physically harden up; this is very much a spiritual journey which reinvigorates his belief and ethical obligations, ultimately bringing the trilogy full circle.

Bale pulls off the troubled Bruce Wayne masterfully, embodying the tragic tale of a man born with everything yet trapped within the darkest recesses of his own mind. But as much as there is a focus on Bruce's story, The Dark Knight Rises features many other wonderfully character driven plot strands. In particular Anne Hathaway is superb, and any fears surrounding the inclusion of 'Catwoman' (never referred to as such here) are quickly laid to rest. Selina Kyle is introduced in such a delectable manner that you wonder why there was any grumbling in the first place. She effortlessly oozes sex appeal without ever meaning to, her ambiguous motivations making her one of the most intriguing characters in the film. Likewise, there is an incredible amount of time spent on rookie cop John Blake (Gordon-Levit). Displaying similar levels of integrity and fortitude to Commissioner Gordon (Oldman), The Dark Knight Rises actually threatens to become more his story, making a compelling point that DC might do well to make a new spin-off trilogy based purely on him. Michael Caine's Alfred is also given some meaty material, delivered with incredible heart as he imparts the hopes and dreams he once had for his effective adopted son.

If there's any criticism to be had here then perhaps at two-hours forty-minutes The Dark Knight Rises does get nebulous in places.  There's so many plots and sub-plots going on that proceedings slow down about halfway through. Also, similarly to The Amazing Spider-Man, this might be one of the few superhero films which barely features a superhero. Certainly Batman's screen time is less than in Begins or the Dark Knight, but then this is a film which thrives more on the expositions of its characters rather than its action. This also shows, where apart from the American football scene we saw in the trailer its action sequences are perhaps not as spectacular as we've seen before.

None of this however stops this being one of the most satisfying climaxes to a movie trilogy ever put to film. Indeed, Nolan's Batman will be cemented for some time as the best superhero series ever. The Dark Knight Rises is a wrought, emotional epic which is complimented perfectly with Hans Zimmer's exhorting musical score. As bat-fans we have truly witnessed something very impressive over the last seven years. This has been a remarkable series combining spectacle with equally engaging character-driven exposition, delivered in such a delightfully understated manner with style and aplomb. It's just such a shame the legend has to end.

The Dark Knight Rises (Nokia Trailer)

*saliva*

Dark Knight Rises Poster Art

Film Review: This Means War

Certificate: 12A (some sexual content)
Directed By: McG
Cast: Reece Witherspoon, Chris Pine, Tom Hardy, Chelsea Handler
Budget: $65 million
Runtime: 97 minutes
Trailer: Watch

Lauren (Witherspoon) is a consumer researcher married to her job. In want of a partner, the picky spinster has yet to find her ideal mate. That is until, like buses, two come along at once in the form of secret agents Tuck (Hardy) and FDR (Pine). When they both realise they've been dating the same woman, the two otherwise BFFs engage in a literal battle for Lauren's heart, using all the resources of the CIA at their disposal.

This bromance come rom-com's whacky premise has all the ingredients for a decent blithesome comedy, but it tries so hard to be charming that, despite brief moments of sweetness, ends up all flustered. Yet to say this is completely devoid of laughs would be a lie. Amusing quips about using the Patriot Act to spy on Lauren (ooo, topical) and Tuck annihilating some kids playing paintball will elicit a giggle, but such moments too sparsely interject. Moreover a film of this nature requires heart, something which is discernibly lacking here.

Considering the combined charisma on show the fact that this doesn't work has to be something of an achievement in itself. Witherspoon's character is just odd, initially coming across all saccharine, but an aura dispelled when she begins stringing the two guys along. Oh boohoo, you don't know which one to pick? Well, why don't you fuck them both to find out?! The fact that this behaviour suffers no reprehension seems somewhat skewed, particularly when Pine, the supposed suave one of the two bros, is expressedly portrayed as a borderline douchebag for his womanising ways. Indeed, the double-standards of this film's gender politics does more than anything to derail its otherwise insouciant premise. Meanwhile, Hardy's stiff, stuttering Hugh Grant British stereotype fails to inspire, never mind that he's a 'foreigner' working in the highest levels of US intelligence. There's also some inchoate bad guy subplot which exists only to justify a car chase and some explosions at the end.

Having watched the trailer what was most disappointing is that I wanted to like this. Yes it's all supposed to be very light-hearted and popcorn, and there are some genuine laughs. But This Means War is a classic case of Hollywood attempting to give audiences what it thinks they want; cool James Bond shit for the fellas, rom-com for the ladies. Unfortunately, as is so typical with Hollywood, its powers of perception have failed to grasp what the people really want once again.

Film Review: Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

With the Cold War in full swing, a botched covert operation to find a double-agent placed within the highest echelons of British intelligence costs head-honcho 'Control' (Hurt) and right-hand man Smiley (Oldman) their jobs. When new information from a rogue operative (Hardy) reignites rumours of a traitor, Smiley is pulled from retirement to spy on the spies and smoke out the mole.

Upon setting up his task force, Smiley learns 'Control' had long harboured fears of a spy within the ranks, distrusting even those in the inner circle. 'Control's' suspicions are visualised through pictures of his suspects taped to chess pieces and given code names from a nursery rhyme. 'Tinker' is the career driven Percy Alleline (Jones); 'Tailor' the mordant Bill Haydon (Firth); 'Soldier' a breviloquent Roy Bland (Hinds); 'Poor Man' persnickety Hungarian immigrant Toby Esterhase (Dencik); and finally amongst 'Control's' suspects miserable sack of spuds George Smiley himself, designated 'Beggarman'.  Aptly nicknamed 'The Circus', they are the high-value pieces at the top of MI6, each operating in accordance of their assigned chess pieces in a grand game of strategy. Others such as Smiley's aide, Peter Guilliam (Cumberbatch), are soon roped into this game of cat and mouse as things become infinitely more complex and dangerous. No chess game would be complete of course without its sacrificial pawns. Mark Strong's Jim Prideaux and Tom Hardy's Ricki Tarr; men who do 'The Circus'' dirty work, complete the essential piece of the puzzle. And suddenly the game is afoot!

And some puzzle it is. Adapted from famous spy novelist John LeCarré's book of the same name, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy ensnares its audience in a tense world of old boys clubs and mountains of dusty files. It is a merciless roller coaster of savage bureaucratic espionage and infighting, where trust is always a misnomer and nothing is ever as it seems. And for a spy film which omits the frantic rush to stop a ticking bomb or some other calamitous mayhem, there is always a very real sense of danger and foreboding. There's so much uncertainty and paranoia floating about that the subsequent climate this creates is palpably volatile. While very understated, it's also very real. You really just don't know what the next twist is, and that's frighteningly dangerous in its own right.

It's this atmosphere, buoyed by its murky seventies Cold War setting, which makes Tinker Tailor a thoroughly absorbing experience. Rather than feeling dated or stuck in bygone era, this is more a homage than an attempt to invigorate a period for the here and now. It's unashamedly grey and brown, set firmly in a place where time doesn't flow, but is frozen. The characters are also part of this forlorn tapestry where then fashionable brown and orange wallpaper reflects the ribald, exhausted looking priests of British intelligence. It's a rich, nuanced world created here by Swedish director Thomas Alfredson (Let The Right One), inviting an investment where you want to know who's doing what to whom and why. While the drab aesthetic is without doubt entrancing, it's of critical importance to heed another MI6 employee who uttered those infamous words "do pay attention double-O-seven". One must constantly concentrate throughout Tinker Tailor, a film so vast in its complexity of twists, turns, counter-twists and counter-turns that even Otto von Bismarck would be left scratching his head. Yes it's dense, difficult and depressing to follow at the best of times, but like in real spy-dom a fastidious attention to detail will yield rewards.

Where the mystery of the mole is engaging in itself, perhaps more enthralling are the nuances of the men involved. One might expect that the collective which constitute 'The Circus' would be the staunchest defenders of democracy and the Western way of life, patriotic chaps who represent the best of British. What's engrossing is how much further from this ideal these men could be. Instead we have alarmingly fallible men disillusioned and cynical of those in power who, as a consequence, are liable to becoming unprincipled traitors to those that may offer a better deal. It is a chord which would have resonated with its Cold War audience of the time, an idea that the West was a spent force and had no more to offer other than the gratification of greed - an amorality eschewed by its ascetic rivals in the East. It was a very real fear that such exotic influences could be allowed to fester at the core of society, an indolence to protect a system that offered little, yet where a failure to do so could let in something far worse. The film's ashen-grey setting of seventies London does much to enhance this feeling of a decadent West about to cave on itself. If you know the history of the period - the rise of trade unions, three-day weeks, power cuts, IMF bailouts - then you can begin to see why no one would want to invest in a nation, a system, which offered nothing. Britain wasn't alone in its problems. American reputation lay in tatters for its war in Vietnam while CIA coups brought people like Pinochet to power. At home it faced the most famous political scandal of the twentieth-century, Watergate. The seventies were very much a period that shook the central tennets of Western civilisation and while you might not think much of Tinker Tailor's archaism it is still quite possible to draw parallels to today. Once again confidence in the system has dramatically plummeted in the face of joblessness, corruption scandals and high bonuses for those who messed up in the first place. Despite being set in a world structured along fundamentally different lines, perhaps ironically this bears more relevance now than any time since.

The film's other underlying current, betrayal, is one which permeates throughout on multiple levels. From betrayal of queen and country to that of personal relationships and self, a vivid picture of the world these ringmasters live in soon emerges. Here sexuality is used to emphasise this, an issue which the book skirts over but one which Alfredson chose to add to great effect. For example, Smiley's wife Ann is shown to be a serial cheater, apportioning favours to close work colleague, Haydon. Ricki Tarr meanwhile forms a connection with a woman on a secret mission abroad, promising her a new life in the West only to fail in saving her from the torturous clutches of the KGB. Hard-as-nails field agent Jim Prideaux, best friends with Haydon since their time at an all boys school, is driven to extreme actions more becoming of a bond which supersedes friendship. But while sex does much to highlight this theme of betrayal what it shows more of is how this group of people, these intelligence deities who preside over the nation's safety and are the frontline against the threat of an international communist conspiracy are just as prone to error as anyone else. Perhaps even more so. They are mortals, as frail and susceptible to emotion as the next person, and this provides a strange yet fascinating twist for an otherwise emotionally cold film.

As one might gather, Tinker Tailor has managed to assemble a sterling ensemble of some of Britain's finest actors. Smiley wasn't the easiest role for Oldman to fill, given that LeCarré's book was made into a BBC miniseries where the character became inextricably linked with an impeccable portrayal by Alec Guinness. Indeed, so synonymous did Guinness become with the book's inscrutable protagonist that Tinker Tailor has drawn some skepticism. Oldman fortunately is superb, eerily motionless but in possession of a piercing mind as he pulls off stoicism in an amoral world of double-crossing and egotistical opportunists. He is a very British type of hero - tired, colourless, and defeated in demeanour, yet despite his nonchalance and drab appearance is a master of his trade - someone you underestimate at your peril. Cumberbatch's recent meteoric rise to fame is once again fully justified here as is another rising star, Tom Hardy, showing a versatility in a role which couldn't be further removed from his latest character, Bane, in the upcoming Dark Knight Rises. As we've come to expect from John Hurt his vitriolic 'Control' is excellent while the time travelling Colin Firth does what he does best, seamlessly blending into yet another period drama. Likewise Mark Strong, not a villain for once, yet again turns in a 'strong' performance.

In the past few years we've had the explosive antics of Bond and Bourne, but this, without any hint of things going boom or martial arts madness, could easily be considered more exciting then either of them. There's no Pussy Galore, Aston Martins fitted with ejector seats or exotic locales here - only piles of disheveled documents situated in drab London settings and dinky little caravans. It's the cerebral spy thriller, a 'whodunnit' that would test even the combined grey matter of Poirot and Marple. Admittedly it can be a little ponderous, and perhaps the biggest let down to this clever caper is its final reveal. While commendable in its lack of histrionics it is perhaps a bit too understated. However, considering this is a film inhabited by deeply flawed monomaniacs and quislings afflicted with paranoia and sociopathy, this won't stop you from being sucked into its smart and dreary world.

Film Review: Warrior

Struggling physics teacher Brenden (Edgerton), seemingly one of the millions of Americans duped into cheap credit during the housing market bubble, needs dough to prevent the foreclosure of his home. Brother and ex-vet, Tommy (Hardy), needs cash to fulfil a promise to the wife of a dead comrade killed in Iraq. Sharing a common alienation from their father (Nolte), the two burly brothers enter the Sparta MMA tournament offering a $5million prize in yet another Rocky-inspired fight film.

Warrior doesn't do much different from other films of this Rocky-inspired genre; dysfunctional families, training montages, overcoming insurmountable odds, culminating in a grand showdown at the end, but done with the aplomb of very good performances. Warrior is a film of two halves, the first charting the two brother's background and their former-alcoholic father who has left each screwed up in their own individual ways. Tommy continues in the vicious cycle of alcoholism precedented by his father. Brenden on the other hand taking the Batman option of not letting events mould him, vowing never to become that man and subsequently building a reasonably successful life for himself. Indeed, their fight styles reflect the experiences that shaped their personalities. Tommy escaped from the abuse with their mother who later died, now harbouring wrought resentment toward the man he blames for his desolate existence. Brenden however stayed in the hope that he, the 'less favourite son', would get more attention in their absence, which of course was a miscalculation. As such, Tommy is quick and brutal, channelling his rage and obviously with something to prove while Brenden is more controlled, able to take copious punishment and still prevail against the odds.

It is this personal exposition where the film works best, but is unfortunately let down by both plot holes and a sudden shift in tone when big 'Sparta' tournament becomes the central focus in the second half of the film. Everything becomes a little bit tawdry as all the hard work done previously seems to fade into obscurity. The final fight for example gives both brothers some sort of epiphany and unexplained capacity for forgiveness, bizarre given their former vehement attitudes toward their father. Unfortunately these irregularities are frequent. For example, Tommy is alluded to having a drug problem which is never extrapolated upon. Likewise, despite being utterly contemptuous of his old man Tommy agrees to be trained by him who, whilst an atrocious father, still somehow managed to be a wily coach in between all the drinking. Brenden conversely fortuitously benefits from that age old Hollywood convention of taking the place of an injured fighter who was supposed to enter the competition in his steed.

Still, despite the irritating plot holes performances remain constantly engaging throughout. Edgerton permeates a sympathy given his young family facing foreclosure. He is the 'Rocky' character, the film's underdog with everything on the line. Tommy on the other hand is supreme as a nihilistic miscreant, any soul having long since been smashed into tiny pieces. A man of little words, there is a tangible sense of someone wanting to scream at a world he views as having thrown him to the curb, destroying anyone who crosses his path. And yet, a touching scene in a hotel room with his father shows there is a redeeming feature and that something good remains. Warrior actually so nearly becomes the Hardy show if not for the brilliant Nick Nolte, a man seeking forgiveness from the sons that have forsaken him because of his past indiscretions. Clearly he is guilty of bad things, but his quest for redemption is palpably lamentable. It makes for tragic yet equally arresting viewing.

Warrior is poignant, to a point. While there are shades of complex emotional delineation in the same vain as other films featuring similar mechanics, notably The Fighter, it just falls short K.Oing its own histrionic trope. In many ways its predictable right up until the end fight when the two inevitably meet each other. To its credit, perhaps the outcome is at least initially not so certain, but it all makes sense when the final bell rings. This isn't as fervid as The Fighter, and doesn't exactly do anything new with the sports genre, but it is satisfying enough to put it in the top half of good films this year.